


Oppression

by Spamberguesa



Series: Obsession [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, captive tauriel, creeper thranduil, dubcon non-sexual situations, even if he's a creeper, fortunately thranduil is also not eol, gentle caring creeper thranduil, mostly gentle and caring anyway, sanity slippage, tauriel is not aredhel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spamberguesa/pseuds/Spamberguesa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <i>Possession</i>. Life as Thranduil’s captive is not easy, but not so horrible as Tauriel feared – for now. She doesn’t trust it to last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oppression

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say is poor Tauriel.

Never had Tauriel known such hell.

The chain had not merely been for show. The King left it on even when he was with her, and when he was absent, he fixed it to the bedpost. She was only ever free of it when she slept, and only then because he always lay with her, whether he needed sleep or not, arms wrapped around her like a different sort of shackle.

The chain was long, at least, and allowed her to move freely enough, but it was a chain nonetheless. Finally she asked him when it would be removed.

“It is for your protection, Tauriel,” he said. They lay together in the dark, his arm slung around her waist, holding her close against him. She was suffocating, drowning in the heat and heady scent of him. The wounds on her arms itched, and she wished so very much that her attempt to take her own life had succeeded. Eru knew when she’d get another.

Time to try a different tactic. “What need have I for more protection, my lord, when you are with me?” She knew she should not actually argue, that she could never let him know how much he horrified her.

In answer, he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “You accept that I only want what is best for you?”

She shut her eyes. “Yes, my lord,” she sighed. “And you know I will never leave you.” _Not yet._

Damn Legolas to the Void for leaving. If he had not gone haring off into the wilderness without her, this would not be happening. She _had_ to get a message to him, but first, she had to get the King to trust her enough to allow her to see other people. And that meant playing along with his madness.

“Thranduil,” he said, his arm tightening around her. “Call me by my name.”

“Yes, Thranduil.” It sounded so alien, so _wrong_.

“We must wash your hair tomorrow.”

Tauriel couldn’t contain her shudder. She’d been avoiding baths, because he refused to let her take one alone. He would wash her hair and massage her shoulders, carefully keeping her bandaged arms out of the water, doing all he could to relax her.

Eru, what did he _want_ from her? Never once had his touches been carnal, yet they were constant, as though he craved her like a drug. She feared the day his desire should grow beyond simple contact.

Did anyone else know she was even here? Surely a healer must have tended her wounds. Was there no one who would help her?

She already knew the answer to that. No one, no matter how sorry they felt for her, would dare risk the King’s wrath to free her. Her only hope was Legolas. Legolas, who she was going to kill for abandoning her.

Sleep was long in coming, but eventually, exhaustion claimed her. Somehow, she would endure tomorrow.

\--

Tauriel woke to the sound of the tub being filled, and shut her mouth on a frustrated scream. She had hoped the King would give her a little time this morning, before subjecting her to the bath.

 _Endure, Tauriel_ , she ordered herself. _Lie, and endure._

She forced herself to sit up, and not to scratch her bandages. As ever, she had no idea what time it actually was, but it was not as though it mattered. Nothing did, anymore.

“Come, Tauriel. The water is almost ready.”

How had he known she was awake? From the bathroom, he could not see her. “Yes, m- Thranduil,” she said, hating herself for obeying the command. Better to obey than risk whatever consequences refusal might bring. He had to trust that she would do as she was told, if she ever wanted to get out of these rooms.

She winced when she rose, dull throbbing pain joining the itching of her arms. Once again her nightdress was damp with sweat from having slept pressed against the King’s unnatural heat, but she would rather leave it than suffer through another forced bath.

And yet, the truly terrifying thing was that he did not see anything he did as force – not even the chain. He genuinely believed his own words.

She made herself put one bare foot in front of the other, the stone floor chilly beneath them. She felt as though she were walking to her own execution.

The bathroom was bright with lantern-light, the air thick and heavy with steam. As always, the King had laid out soft towels and a dressing-gown for each of them – and, as always, he waited for her to go in first.

Stripping her clothes off in front of him hadn’t grown any easier with repetition, but at least it was a comfort to know he wasn’t leering at her. She stepped into the water without looking at him, hiding her face behind the red curtain of her hair.

She shut her eyes when the King stepped in behind her, and immediately drew her hair away from her back, fingers rubbing deep circles along her shoulders.

“You are unhappy, Tauriel,” he said, running his thumbs along her spine. She hated how good it felt. “Why?”

“I grieve, my lor – Thranduil.” It was very true, too; trapped so often in his presence, she had not had the opportunity to properly mourn Kili.

“Of course you do,” he said, sounding irritated with himself. “Goheno nin, Tauriel. That was ill-thought.”

How strange it was, that he could apologize for a remark yet keep her chained to his bed. Even in his madness he was ever unpredictable.

“M – Thranduil,” she said, hating too how small her voice was, “will you take me outside? I do not know how long it has been since last I saw the sun.”

She yelped when he pulled her back against his chest, tilting her chin up so he could look at her. “Why would I do that, Tauriel?” he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. His eyes were suddenly very cold, his face like a statue of pale marble.

She swallowed hard, trying to stop the flutter of panic in her chest. “Because I ask it of you,” she said. “Because you will never trust me if you do not give me the opportunity to prove that you can.”

Thank Eru, his expression softened at that. She never knew, from hour to hour, how much of what she said actually got through to him. “Of course,” he said, and she tried not to flinch when his left hand drifted down her arm. As ever, there was no desire in the touch – only a strange, nameless _need_ that even now she could not define.

Small though her twitch was, of course he noticed it. “You fear me, Tauriel,” he said, and now there was sorrow in his voice. “Why?”

That was a question she simply could not answer with a lie. “Yes,” she said, shutting her eyes, “I do. You are…not as I have always known you to be, and I do not understand. And that frightens me.”

“Oh, Tauriel.” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her tighter against him. “Do not fear me. You know I would never harm you.”

She knew she ought to agree with him, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. “I do not know you when you are like this, Thranduil,” she said, eyes still closed as her head rested back against his shoulder. “I do not really know you at all, though I have served you for centuries.”

“We have all the time in the world to remedy that,” he said, kissing her temple. “You are not like others, Tauriel. You have never wanted anything from me.”

 _I want nothing from you_ now, she thought, fighting the despair that tried to rise within her. “I want nothing from anyone,” she said.

“I wish you would want from me.”

Her eyes snapped open. Oh, Eru, let that not mean what it sounded like.

She tried to turn in his arms, needing to look at him, though she had no desire to. After a moment he let her, and she regarded him another moment in silence. So many would envy her position, sitting in a warm bath with her coldly beautiful King, and she would happily trade places with any of them.

There was nothing cold about him now, however. Not until her imprisonment had she seen his expression so open, and she wished it could be under any other circumstances. “My question, Thranduil,” she said, unable to keep the trepidation from her tone, “is what do you want from me?” Eru, don’t let it be what she would never give. “If it is my companionship, you need not keep me chained. I have nowhere to go, and no one but you.” _That_ was more than true enough.

His pale eyes watched her intently. “I want only what you are willing to give me.”

It was not the answer she feared, but it was still unsettling enough for her to turn away. “I have given you all I can.”

“Then it is all I will ever ask,” he said, wrapping his arms around her again.

She wished she could believe it.

\--

Tauriel was honestly surprised when he made good on his word, and let her out into his private garden. Without the chain.

The feel of the sun on her face was glorious, better than anything she had ever known, and she tilted her head back to bask in it – it was the chilly sunlight of early spring, which told her just how long she’d actually been captive. For the first time since the Battle of Five Armies, she felt like she knew who she was. She doubted she would ever convince Thranduil to let her back into the Guard even if his sanity _did_ restore itself, but just to breathe fresh air, to feel the wind around her, was enough for now. The tension that had been mounting in her since she woke in his room so months ago eased, and she no longer felt like her own sanity might snap at any moment.

“Thank you, my lord,” she breathed.

“Thranduil,” he chided, taking her hand.

“Thank you, Thranduil. I would have sickened and died without the sun.”

His grip tightened, and she wondered if he thought she meant it literally. Perhaps she did.

She hazarded a look at him, and found his expression quite stricken. “I am a creature of the forest, Thranduil,” she said. “I cannot be deprived of it for long.”

To her shock, he gathered her close, his embrace a bit too tight for comfort, and rested his cheek on her hair. “Goheno nin, Tauriel,” he said. “I did not think.”

 _You have not truly_ thought _since you imprisoned me_ , she thought sourly, but surely this was progress of some sort. _What_ sort, she did not know, but at least he seemed to be considering her as something other than as extension of himself. She only prayed it would last. “You are thinking now,” she said, and made herself return the embrace. How ironic, that he’d spent so much effort trying to soothe her, but _she_ had to soothe _him_ if she ever wanted anything approximating freedom again.

\--

Morwen was deeply troubled, as was everyone else she knew.

Word of Tauriel’s imprisonment had rapidly spread, and no one was surprised. What was surprising – and disturbing – was that she had, for whatever reason, been desperate enough to try to take her own life.

It had been no halfhearted attempt, either. Morwen had treated the deep, ragged gashes on her arms, and honestly wondered how she had survived long enough to _be_ treated.

More unnerving still had been the King’s reaction. He had not seemed to be able to stop touching her, stroking her hair and her brow, whispering words of desperate, unstable comfort, the possessiveness that had lingered in his eyes for so long turned to outright madness. He genuinely fancied himself in love with her, and there was no way that could end in anything but disaster.

Someone had to get a message to the Prince, but none knew where he had gone. It was only a matter of time before Tauriel would again try to kill herself, and if she succeeded, the King truly _would_ lose his mind. And Eru knew what he’d do then.

\--

Her walk in the garden aided Tauriel immensely, but it only made returning to her prison all the more difficult.

It didn’t help that the King literally would not leave her side – nor, even now, would he stop touching her. His hands skimmed her back, her shoulders, carded through her damp hair. She was not at all surprised when he guided her to his dressing-table to comb it, for he had done so every day.

She bowed her head while he did, looking at her arms. The bandages would need to be changed soon, and she did not want to – she didn’t wish to see the signs of her failure. She would bear those scars until the end of her days – however many of those she had left. For sooner or later, despite his noble intentions, she was quite sure the King would try to take her by force, and that was fatal for an Elf.

He wouldn’t see it as force. Doubtless he would think her resistance merely shyness, that her nerves would melt away under his touch. What he would do when he discovered otherwise, when he woke to find a corpse beside him…well, at least that wouldn’t be _her_ problem. And she would be far from the only one to have gone to Mandos that way, so at least she would have company.

But that would not, she thought, be any time soon. For now, Thranduil truly believed in the purity of his regard for her, and as she had reminded him, she was still grieving. He was mad, but he was not cruel. And so long as she obeyed his commands, he would probably remain that way for a while.

Meanwhile, the feel of the comb through her hair was no longer unpleasant – if she could forget who was using it, it was actually rather calming. She’d grown so accustomed to the rich, nameless scent of him that she could sometimes ignore it – though she would swear that part of why he touched her so often was so that she would smell like him, marking her like an animal. The thought made her shudder.

“Are you could, Tauriel?” he asked, immediately setting aside the comb.

“A little, m- Thranduil,” she said, not raising her head.

“You still hesitate over using my name,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her to her feet.

“I am simply unused to it,” she said, forcing herself to look at him. “I have called you ‘my lord’ all my life. Remembering to call you by your name will take time.” She only dared look at him when she spoke the truth, for mad or not, he would see a lie in her eyes. This, however, was quite true – it just wasn’t the whole truth. Using his name felt _wrong_ , for it suggested an intimacy and familiarity she did not want.

“Well, get used to it.” There was a brief flash of irritation in his eyes and his tone, the thing she’d come to dread.

“I will, Thranduil,” she assured him, hating the faintness in her voice.

“Of course you will,” he said, irritation vanishing as swiftly as it had come. “You always were adaptable, my Tauriel.” His grip on her hand tightened fractionally, though not quite enough to hurt. “And you _are_ mine.”

“I know, Thranduil,” she said, shutting her eyes, unable to bear the intensity of his. “As I’ve said, I would never leave you.”

“I would never let you,” he said. “But come, sit beside the fire with me.”

 _I will not be Aredhel_ , she thought, following dutifully, and made no protest when Thranduil sat on the divan and pulled her onto his lap, head rested against his shoulder. _I will not give in as she did_. She was _not_ Thranduil’s, nor would she ever be – she could simply never let him know that. Tauriel had only ever belonged to herself, and she would not allow her captivity to change that, no matter how long her imprisonment.

Thranduil’s fingers tangled in her hair, absently stroking it as though she were a cat. The heat of him warmed her even more than the fire.

“You are still very warm, Thranduil,” she said, curling into a ball on his lap. “I worry that you have a fever.” Could illness explain this? Could it truly be so simple?

“I have always been so,” he said, wrapping his arms around her – too tightly, as usual. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

 _That was the point_. She stared into the fire, which burned low in the grate, casting flickering shadows everywhere. It seemed so dark in here, after her reprieve in the sunshine. But if she could convince Thranduil to take her outside often, the sun would give her hope.

“Are you weary, Tauriel?” he asked, his thumb running up and down her shoulder.

“A little.” And she was, though her fatigue was far more mental than physical. She had spent much time sleeping in these last months, for if she slept, she did not have to think. It was not wise – her body would weaken if she kept it up – but it was her only reprieve from her worries and fears.

“We will change your bandages, and then you must rest.” He lifted her easily, carrying her to the bed and setting her down so very gently. She pushed back the sleeves of her borrowed dressing-gown, staring at her arms. The fabric of the garment was unlike any she had ever worn, rich and softer than silk, and she hated it. She was not made to wear such clothes – quite apart from how vulnerable it made her, wearing it and nothing else. The fact that Thranduil wouldn’t take advantage of that – yet – did not change the fact that he _could._

Tauriel forced herself to look at her arms when he unwound the bandages, at the ugly scabs and scars of her failure. Surprisingly, Thranduil still hadn’t asked her why she’d done it. Doubtless he had drawn his own conclusions, and felt no need to inquire.

He washed her left arm oh-so-carefully, the touch of his long fingers so delicate she could barely feel it. When he smeared the clear, bitter-scented salve over the wounds, she drew a sharp breath.

Thranduil froze. “Have I hurt you?”

“No,” she said. “It merely stings.”

The terrible thing was that the concern in his eyes was genuine. “You are certain?”

“Thranduil, if you ever hurt me, I would tell you,” she assured him. And she had, several times, when he held her too tightly, his arms a different kind of chain.

“Do,” he said, and she managed not to flinch when he stroked the side of her face, his fever-hot fingers leaving trails of warmth in their wake. “If I cause you pain, Tauriel, never keep silent.”

How could he have such concern for her, yet not realize he was suffocating her by slow degrees? “I would always tell you, Thranduil,” she forced herself to say. “Thus far, it has only been that I think you are sometimes unaware of your full strength.”

“I will try to remember,” he said, carefully wrapping a clean bandage around her arm. “But sometimes I fear that if I do not hold you, you will run from me.”

As much as she would absolutely _love_ to, she knew she wouldn’t get far. “You know I would not, Thranduil,” she said, as she started on her other arm. “Someday you will believe me.” Tauriel swallowed, forcing herself to add, “Someday you will trust me, as I trust you.”

Thranduil kissed the inside of her wrist, carefully avoiding her scars, his lips a phantom brand against her skin. “And someday you will love me as I love you.”

Tauriel shut her eyes, wishing he had not said that. She had no idea how to respond, so she did not. If he truly believed this to be love, she was in far more danger than she’d thought.

“I have startled you,” he said, gently washing the scabs, the water warm and soothing.

“Yes,” she said honestly. “I did not realize…”

“I should not have said anything yet,” he said, and started with the salve. “Not while you are in mourning. I swore to you that I will ask nothing of you, Tauriel, and I meant it. I want only to keep you safe.”

 _So you’ve said_ , she thought, _over and over. I wonder if you actually believe it_. “I know, my lord. Thranduil.” She had a momentary flash of panic at her slip-up. “You are still my lord, no matter what else I call you.” That ought to please him.

To her relief, it did. He smiled at her, open and warm, and it would have been wonderful if not for the light in his eyes, that fey gleam of possessiveness and hunger. “In that case, I will forgive you. But you must learn.”

“I will,” she promised, because she had no other choice. “I would rest now, if I may.” 

“Of course you may,” he said, rising and taking her hands in his. “You need not ask my permission, Tauriel.”

 _You could have fooled me_ , she thought, standing. She had a spare nightdress somewhere around here. “I will try to remember that, Thranduil,” she said, and he drew her close and kissed her brow.

She felt somewhat better when she’d put on her own clothes, but she was still surrounded by the scent of him, shackled to him by the arm around her waist. If she had the promise of the sun, she could endure this.

Sooner or later, even without a message, Legolas would come home, and bring with him her freedom. All she could do until then was survive, and try to preserve her sanity. She was Tauriel, not Aredhel, and Tauriel she would remain.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a good resolution, Tauriel. Let’s see how long you can actually keep to it.
> 
> Fortunately for her, Thranduil is kind of the anti-Eöl: Eöl married Aredhel specifically because he wanted to bone her, without caring about her as a person. (Fairly obviously, since he later murdered her without remorse.) Thranduil doesn’t actually want to bone Tauriel yet, and he wouldn’t act on it until, well, he got her to the point where she’s “not wholly unwilling”. He really does love her, in some twisted, fucked-up, insane way.


End file.
